


Summer Snow

by BlueLineGoon



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Fluff, Gen, Happy Ending, Married Characters, Married Couple, Married Life, One Big Happy Family, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 01:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20899637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueLineGoon/pseuds/BlueLineGoon
Summary: Vegeta goes out of his way to help his family beat the heat.





	Summer Snow

Bulma sighed and adjusted her sunhat, feeling sweat slide off her arms. The August heat wave was unbearable. Nearby, Trunks splashed distractedly in a small inflatable pool. He gave a weak smile and flicked a few droplets at his mother. It was warm as bath water.

A warning buzzer quietly sounded, and the lights on the Gravity Room switched from ‘Danger!’ to ‘Enter.’ Vegeta emerged, a towel round his neck. He was stripped to the waist, and his chest was slick with sweat. He paused in the doorway, surveying the hot air with disdain, and frowned up at the bright, cloudless sky.

Bulma felt the baby kick. She gave a soft sound of surprise, and laid a hand on her stomach. In an instant, Vegeta had crossed the open stretch of wilted, yellowing grass to stand next to her.

“What is it? Is the child all right?” He demanded.

Bulma laughed softly.

“We’re both fine.” She said, “just recognized her Papa, I think.”

Vegeta stepped back, poorly hiding the wash of relief spreading over his face. He turned away from her, starting back toward the house.

“Hmph. Ridiculous.”

Trunks heaved a long sigh and idly slapped the water’s surface, making a splash that seemed too-loud in the hot, still air.

“How can you train in this heat?” Trunks asked Vegeta, “aren’t you hot?”

“A Saiyan warrior isn’t bothered by the weather.”

“Well at least two of us aren’t warriors, and we’re hot too, Trunks.” Bulma said.

Vegeta paused, halfway turning.

“Dehydration is dangerous for children, even young Saiyans. I will prepare beverages.” Though his voice was toneless, and may have even sounded irritated to the untrained ear, Bulma could feel the concern and affection in his words.

Vegeta marched into the house, pausing to hang his towel on a hook in the mud room. He stretched his arms above his head, the beads of sweat ran down his chest, following the paths of pale, smooth scars over his tightly corded muscles. Bulma leaned forward in her deck chair, peering over the rim of her sunglasses for a better look.

When he returned with an icy pitcher and three cups on a tray, Bulma was using her hat to fan herself, doing little more than pushing the heavy air around. Vegeta, holding the tray in one hand, gently took the hat from her and placed it back on her head.

“I’ve brought-“ Vegeta began.

“Lemonade!” Trunks whooped, splashing out of his pool and charging over to stand impatiently next to his father.

“Wait your turn, Trunks!” Vegeta reprimanded. “Your mother is with child.”

She gratefully accepted the glass of lemonade when he offered, and downed half of it in a few quick swallows.

“Thank you, dear.” She said, smiling up at Vegeta.

Bulma watched, heart feeling warmed by more than the sun, as he poured a glass for Trunks, then himself.

“Thanks, dad!” Trunks said brightly, returning to his lukewarm pool.

Vegeta said nothing, only turned and stalked back to the house, sipping his drink.

“Join us when you’ve finished your shower!” Bulma called. “We’ll be out here waiting for some snow.”

Vegeta turned his head to regard her, then went inside. He emerged a few moments later, wearing a shirt. It was one Bulma had given him when he first arrived. They had belonged to Yamcha, who was going through a graphic tee phase shortly before they broke up. She still took some small satisfaction in watching her husband destroy the gaudy things in his training sessions. This particularly offensive garment was a gaudy turquoise, daubed with magenta and lime green, made to look like drips of paint, and bright yellow graffiti-font that read: ‘fly solo.’

“I’m going to find Kakarot.” He said evenly.

“More training? In this heat?” Bulma asked.

Vegeta said nothing.

“Well don’t over-exert yourself. I know how the two of you get.”

Vegeta gave a non-committal grunt and a barely-perceptible nod before taking to the sky with a leap and a roaring blast of swirling energy.

“Later, dad!” Trunks called, “thanks for the lemonade!”

Bulma was dozing, and time seemed a slippery thing. She’d just finished a second glass of lemonade, and was debating going inside to escape the sun, when Trunks’ voice shocked her from her reverie.

“Hi dad!” He called, waving and smiling.

Vegeta strolled casually into the yard from the front of the house, hands in his pockets, trying his best to appear relaxed. Bulma narrowed her eyes.

“All right, what did you do?” She demanded.

He blanched and froze in place, looking like Trunks the last time she caught him sneaking cookies before dinner.

He began to splutter a retort when Trunks let loose a peal of laughter and gestured skyward.

Drifting down from the clear blue sky was a fine sprinkle of snow. The flakes were icy cold, and intensely refreshing. Bulma laughed and stretched out her arms, reveling in the coolness and a strangeness of it.

“Was this you?” She asked Vegeta.

“Pah. Like I can control the weather. No doubt some some freak atmospheric phenonmen-“

Vegeta’s reply was cut short by the characteristic high-pitched** woosh **of Goku’s instant transmission technique.

“Hiya Geets!” Goku said brightly.

“What do you want?” Vegeta growled.

“Well Chichi thought it was super nice and romantic that you wanted to steal a comet from space so Bulma and Trunks could cool off, and she wanted to invite you guys over for dinn-“

The rest of his invitation was lost as Vegeta, red-faced and blushing, clamped a hand over his mouth and tried to throttle the life out of him.

Bulma and Trunks shared a laugh as Goku managed to squirm away from the embarrassed Prince.

“But - but Vegeta!” he protested, “you made me go look at six different ice things!”

Goku frowned, crossed his arms, and pitched his voice down in his best impression of Vegeta.

“No, no, no! this one’s filthy! I won’t have my family, and unborn child exposed to god-knows-what from some vile space debris. Find another one!”

Bulma got up from her chair and planted a small kiss on Vegeta’s cheek.

“That was very thoughtful, Vegeta. Thank you.”

Vegeta’s blush only deepened, and he barely managed to squeeze out a strangled “I don’t sound like that.”

Bulma smiled, and turned to face Trunks.

“Out of the pool, Trunks.” She said sweetly. “We have dinner plans.”


End file.
